Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

“And then he walked away,”I say, finishing my recount of the recent events with Archer over drinks with my girls at an awesome restaurant called The Aquarium. Sharks, turtles, and other oceanic fish swim all around us in the massive tank that surround the restaurant.

“That’s it? He could have at least kissed you properly,” Em says before shoving a salsa-covered chip in her mouth.

“So, what happens next?” Kins asks.

I shrug. “I have no idea.”

The frown Em’s been sporting since I told her Arch and I didn’t get down and dirty deepens. “What exactly is he waiting for? Some kind of sign that you’re ready, or for you to make the first move?”

“Oh, yes, that,” Kins says, pointing at Em while looking at me. “He wants you to make the next move.”

I sip my wine then ask, “Which is what?”

“Kiss him. Duh,” Em says as if I’m a clueless idiot, which, to be fair, when it comes to anything outside of a one-night stand, I am.

“So, what, you think I should just walk up to him and kiss him? Just like that?”

“Maybe a little more thought than that is required,” Kins suggests. “But first, you need to be sure you’re ready to put the things you perceive to be issues aside.”

“They’re not perceived issues. They’re real, genuine concerns,” I say. “I’ve worked my ass off to be at the top of my game in my career. It takes a lot of time and energy wooing potential clients and proving my worth in the industry.”

“Yeah,” Em agrees. “But you’ve already done that. You’re standing as one of the best agents in the city is rock solid. Due, in part, to the fact that Archer and Bates are your clients. You’re—”

“Exactly!” I blurt, cutting her off. “That’s what I’m saying. Some of my success can be accredited to them putting their faith in me in the first place. Now, if Archer and I start dating, it’s going to look super unprofessional.”

This conversation is giving me a headache. I’ve gone over it a million times in my head. No matter what happens, I’m screwed—either professionally or emotionally. I’m inclined to throw my emotions overboard, but my girls aren’t so ready to give up on me.

“Look, I’ll probably die a successful spinster with a rotation of boy toys on call. And I’m okay with that,” I tell them, taking a hearty swig of my wine.

Sparkling grape juice sprays from Emory’s nose, and she coughs. “I don’t think so, missy. Not on my watch.”

Of course the die-hard romantic would have a coronary over my love life.

Storm, who has been unusually quiet through the conversation, says, “You’re making this all more complicated than it needs to be.”

I twist my head to stare at her. “Oh really?”

She nods as she unlatches baby Seb from her boob then props him on her shoulder and pats his back. “Do you love him?”

“Love?” I sputter. “Who said anything about the L-word?”

Seb lets out a ripper burp for such a tiny thing, and Storm hands him over to Em who’s doing grabby hands at her. She puts her boob away properly then knocks back half a bottle of water. When she’s done, she gives me the most condescending look I’ve ever been on the receiving end of.

“Len, from everything you’ve said, this has been going on between you two for over a year, yeah?”

I nod, not understanding her point.

“Honey, if you didn’t have some hardcore feelings for the guy, you would have put an end to this a long time ago,” she says flatly.

My pulse spikes at her words. She’s right. Dropping my head on the edge of the table, I groan. “It’s not just about my feelings, though. It’s about my career.”

“So, you’re going to throw away your happiness for what, a job? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t grab that man with both hands and hold on tight,” she says in a tone that brooks no argument.

Straightening, I meet her knowing gaze as she picks up her glass of sparkling grape juice and takes a delicate sip. I look to my two best friends, who nod their agreement.

“Okay, say I listen to you lot; how would you suggest I proceed?” I ask, my gaze traveling around the table. These three women all have incredible men in their lives, and their take on the situation so far has been pretty spot-on.

“Oh, oh, I’ve got this one,” Kins says, waving her hand in my face.

I chuckle. “Alright, let’s have it.”

“Ask Archer to be your date to the wedding,” she proclaims.

“What wedding?” I ask.

Her cheeks pink up, and a big beautiful smile spreads across her face. “Mine.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “That’s not for what, like, a year or something?”

“Umm, well, not quite,” she says. “We’re getting married in a month.”

I cough, choking on my wine. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Nooo,” Emory whines. “I’m going to be as fat as a whale.”

“I think that might be the point,” Storm says to Em, patting her hand. “I’m guessing Kins doesn’t want to be the whale in her wedding photos.”

“Ugh, fine,” Em grumbles. “I’ll take one for the team.”

Kins laughs. “Gee thanks, Emmy.” Then something catches her eye, and she waves at someone across the room. A chick with long, pink hair strides toward us, and Kins stands to hug her when she’s close enough. “Guys, this is Hannah. She’s married to Atticus’s cousin Sam.”

Hannah drags a free chair over from another table and joins us. After we all exchange greetings and proper introductions are made, Kins says, “Sam had to almost drown in a shark tank before Hannah would admit she loved him.”

“What?!” Em, Storm, and I yelp.

“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes.

“You guys can’t give me shit for being a hard-ass anymore,” I state. “I got nothing on this chick.”

* * *

When I get home,I’m feeling lighter than I have all week, thanks to tonight’s girl time.

Turns out, Hannah works at the restaurant we were at, looking after the sharks that live in the aquarium. Meeting her and hearing how she and Sam got together makes me hopeful I can sort my own shit out. Hannah was just as resistant to relationships as me, but for Sam, she got past her issues. The way she tells it, taking that leap of faith with him was the best thing she’s ever done.

The more I think about it, the more certain I am that a life without Archer is not one I’m interested in. I just need to find a way to show him that I’m ready to let him in. The girls had some solid suggestions, but none of them were really me.

The Lumineers are playing softly as I lie on top of my comforter, staring at the ceiling while I try to come up with a way to ask Arch to come to Kins’ wedding with me.

A knock sounds at my bedroom door, and I call out, “Yo.”

“Mind if I come in?” Archer asks, poking his head inside.

I prop myself up on my elbows. “Sure.” Then it dawns on me—I’m thinking way too hard about all this. I need to just put it out there like I do with everything else. “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”

Archer closes the door behind him and approaches the bed, then he veers off to the armchair in the corner. After sitting, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

He’s so freaking hot. My gaze trails over him from the baseball cap twisted backwards on his head to his bare feet. Sooo hot.

“You need to quit looking at me like that.”

I smirk. “Why? I thought you wanted me to stop fighting this?”

“Fuckin’ A,” he grumbles under his breath. He shifts his gaze to the wall. “I came in here to talk, and the longer you give me fuck-me eyes, the less I want to talk.”

“Fiiine,” I drawl. “What’s up?”

He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Bates,” he says.

I sit up fully, shuffling to lean against my headboard. “What about him?”

“Something’s off with him. Any time I try to bring it up, he shuts me out. It’s not like Bates.”

“I know,” I say, running a hand through my messy hair, my fingers getting caught on a snag. Leaning over, I grab a comb from my side table and rake it through the tangled strands. “I tried talking to him about it the other night. That’s when he threw this,” I say, gesturing between us, “back in my face.”

Archer nods then shifts until he’s sprawled out in the armchair. He twists his cap around and drops his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He sighs. “Do you think that’s really his problem? Us?”

The thought gives me pause. I let it roll around in my head, but no, I don’t think that’s Bates’ problem. At least, not all of it. “Something else is going on with him,” I tell Archer. “There is no us for him to have an issue with.”

When Arch lifts his head, glaring at me, I add, “Yet.”

He’s out of the chair and hovering above me a beat later.

I laugh. “What are you doing?”

“You said yet,” he states, a brilliant smile on his face.

“That I did,” I agree, unable to resist smiling back. Swallowing my nerves, I lift my hands and slide them around his neck.

His gaze sharpens and fills with heat.

“I’m done fighting.”

“Thank fuck,” he breathes as I tug him until our mouths are so close our breaths mingle.

I groan when he rolls his hips against mine. It feels so good. Neither of us move to close the tiny space between our lips. Then, he knocks his hat off his head and rolls, taking me with him. This new position has me straddling his hips, and his hands grip my waist as he grinds into me.

My head falls back as a wave of sensation washes over me. I brace my palms on his chest and moan, “Arch.”

“Shut up and kiss me, spitfire,” he demands, and I do.

I glide my fingers over his collarbone, along his shoulders, to his neck. My fingers dip into his hair, and I bring my mouth down on his. It’s hot and hurried. We’re all lips and teeth and tongues.

His hands float along my sides until he’s gripping my ass and guiding me over his erection as he thrusts from below. My sleep shorts and his sweats are the only barrier between us.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he groans into my throat between hot, wet kisses. He releases my ass. His calloused palms coast up and under the hem of my tank.

The feel of his skin against mine is electric. I sit, yanking my top over my head before tossing it to the side. Arch licks his lips as he trails his hands around my body to cup my aching breasts.

I slap his hands away and shimmy back just enough that I’m able to find the bottom of his tee. “Off. I want this off,” I tell him, tugging his shirt.

He grins and reaches behind his neck, hooking the fabric and dragging it over his head.

My hungry gaze rakes over every inch of exposed muscle. His abs bunch and ripple as he moves, flinging his shirt away. Bending over him, I brush soft kisses to each of his pecs then slowly move down his abdomen. I pay attention to each and every dip and curve of muscle.

His hips flex beneath my ass, and I chuckle, lifting my gaze to his. “Problem?” I ask.

He shakes his head adamantly. “Not a one.”

“Good,” I murmur, going back to my task of driving him insane with need.